


Heart of Darkness

by Kamaro0917



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aged up Gabrielle, Alternate Universe, Angst, Beauty and the Beast Elements, Dubious Manipulation, F/F, Non magical Hermione, Not a lot of fluff here, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Veela lore, dark!fleur
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:53:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25384114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kamaro0917/pseuds/Kamaro0917
Summary: After a freak skiing accident, Hermione wakes up and finds herself trapped in an enchanted castle… and she’s not alone.ORBeauty and the Beast AU with Dark!Fleur. Here it is.
Relationships: Fleur Delacour/Hermione Granger
Comments: 75
Kudos: 169
Collections: Fleurmione Disney Collection





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, welcome to the new story.  
> Anyway, I was having some discussions with fellow Fleurmione writers and readers and the ideas for Beauty and the Beast and a Dark!Fleur came up, so I'm giving a go at combining the two. This is a bit of a turn from my usual fluff/drama, so hopefully you find it enjoyable.  
> Please feel free to drop me a comment/suggestion along the way if you feel so inclined. I do like feedback, especially if something doesn't feel right or you have questions. I want to try to write an immersive experience/story so if something pulls you out of the setting/story line, I will adjust accordingly.  
> 

“Put down the book and step away from the table.”

Without looking up or skipping a word, Hermione rolled her eyes at the approaching redhead and pointedly ignored her friend. She knew  _ exactly _ why Ginny was here and she was rather content to stay put in her chair next to the roaring fireplace in the main ski lodge of Courchevel. While this was one of the top ski resorts in the French Alps, skiing was not on her agenda for the day. It was their first full day here and she wanted to relax. 

In her mind everything was perfect exactly as it was and nothing about traipsing about in the bitter cold sounded appealing to her at the moment. Her outfit had been carefully chosen to maximize comfort for her day in: a set of soft black leggings, a loose grey knitted jumper, and fluffy wool socks. After years of struggling to control her bushy hair she had managed to tame the outrageous curls into flowing waves and had it pulled back in a loose ponytail. 

She had perfectly positioned herself in the puffy arm chair, leaning heavily against the armrest with her knees bent so her feet were tucked comfortably under her bum. She had also pulled a table over and arranged her reading material into neat stacks based on the subject next to a fresh pot of tea, everything positioned within arm’s reach. No. She would not be moved. 

“Her-miiiii-one… you know you wanna...” Ginny sing-songed with a broad grin as she flopped onto the couch next to where the bookworm was reading. When her efforts once again went unacknowledged, she extended her leg and poked the brunette in the ribs with her foot. 

“Oi! Bugger off will you?” Hermione quickly swatted away the offending toes, marking her place with her finger before shooting her friend an indignant glare. “Don’t you have anyone else to bother? Where is Dean? Go bother him instead. Isn’t that the whole point of having a boyfriend?”

“He’s already on the slopes with Ron and Harry. Which is where we should be, too.” Ginny retracted her foot with a pout.

Hermione turned her attention back to her book without responding. 

“Come on. Seriously? It’s winter break and we’re in France! You should be having fun, not wasting your time studying! Even Luna is going out today!”

“I  _ am _ having fun! Or I  _ was _ until you started pestering me.” Hermione snapped her book shut to emphasize her annoyance and rolled her eyes at the persistent redhead. “And for your information, trying to get a head start for next semester is  _ not _ a waste of time. In fact, it is a very  _ good _ use of my time. It certainly has a much better return on investment than skiing the entire break away.” 

“Not true. There is something to be said about maintaining a proper balance of school and fun. Work hard and play harder, you know?” Ginny countered. “You should give your poor brain a break once in a while. I swear, all that thinking is gonna be your downfall, mark my words. You’ll work yourself into an early grave if you keep this up.”

Hermione huffed again and muttered, “No I won’t” under her breath. “Fine. Consider them marked. Maybe tomorrow. Besides, I’m really in the zone right now.” She held up her book to show the cover.

“Fundamentals of Advanced Mathematics 1: Categories, Algebraic Structures, Linear and Homological Algebra,” Ginny stumbled over the words. “The hell does that even mean?!” 

“It discusses the mathematical elements which make up the foundations of a number of contemporary scientific methods. You know, like modern theory on systems, physics and engineering. It’s rather elementary actually.” Hermione explained excitedly, her soft brown eyes lighting up.

“God that sounds bloody dreadful! How can you read that rubbish?”

“It’s not rubbish, it’s absolutely fascinating! It explains so much about the world around us. Why  _ wouldn’t _ you want to know that?” Hermione shot back with another pointed glare.

Unbothered, Ginny just shrugged “You are  _ such _ a nerd. Here, two plus three is five. Which, if you hurry, is the number of hours of skiing we should have left for the day. That’s all the maths I need to know. Come on, let’s go, we’re wasting daylight. Once you get up there you’re gonna have so much fun relaxing with us on the slopes that you'll forget all about your books.”

“I told you I would go with you all tomorrow.” Hermione huffed irritably and opened her book again. “Besides, I really need to stay on top of my studies if I want to graduate on time.”

“It’s not my fault you decided to be an overachiever and try to take on  _ four _ degrees! I mean, who does that?”

“I do. And it’s just two degrees and two minors.” Hermione deadpanned as she searched for her spot on the page. It was true that maybe she had bitten off a lot for her undergraduate coursework, trying to complete degrees in Mathematics and Chemistry with minors in English Literature and Psychology all at once. But she was too stubborn to back down or admit defeat now. She just had three semesters left, plus her online courses during the summer. She could sleep after she graduated. 

“But why do we have to suffer because of your choices? We miss our Hermione time!”

“What are you talking about? I saw you all yesterday! And for the record, I find this to be much more relaxing than hurtling down snowy slopes with death traps strapped to my feet.” 

In truth, she enjoyed skiing and was pretty decent at it. She and her parents went on skiing trips almost every winter. But she was so comfortable at the moment it would be a shame to move. 

“God, you’re such a bloody party pooper!” Ginny pouted. “Why did you even come on this trip then if you’re just gonna read the whole time?”

“I have never been to France so I thought it would be interesting. And you know, having the bill picked up by Dean’s family was pretty wicked generous. And because your fool of a brother is almost as persistent as you and wouldn’t accept no for an answer. Isn’t it kind of strange that he was so pushy that I came along? Wasn’t this supposed to be a couples’ week? I mean, you and Dean and Harry and Luna, right?”

Ginny shrugged and folded her hands under her head like a pillow. “I don’t think it’s strange. You’re his friend and he probably didn’t want to be the third wheel. Or fifth in this case. Plus, I think he fancies you but is too damn bullheaded to admit it.”

Hermione just shook her head softly, “I mean, he’s a nice bloke and all… but that’s the problem. He’s a bloke. And I think that I prefer…”

“Fanny? Twat? Snatch? Minge?”

“Ginny Weasley!” Hermione hissed loudly as a hot blush spread rapidly across her cheeks, almost matching the hue of Ginny’s hair. She hadn’t officially come out to any of her friends yet and she didn’t exactly want the news dropping like this. 

The redhead didn’t seem to be the least bit remorseful or ashamed at her choice of words. A wide grin spread across her face, taking Hermione’s reaction as confirmation. 

“Must you be so crass? What if someone heard?!” Hermione quickly glanced around the open sitting area to check if anyone had heard. Thankfully it was just them, as the ski conditions were actually perfect; a fresh layer of powder had fallen overnight and now the skies were clear and blue. 

“What? I grew up with six older brothers!” Ginny shrugged completely unapologetic. “Nothin’ to be ashamed about. I kinda figured you liked the lady bits last year. I saw the way you and Katie Bell were making eyes at each other when you came to watch my rugby matches…”

“Eugh!” Hermione huffed and tossed her book on the table, knocking over her stack of English Lit books.  _ Clarissa, Or the History of a Young Lady _ fell onto the floor with a loud thud. This was  _ not _ happening. Except it was, and she felt her composure slipping along with her patience. 

“Look, if you’re worried about it, I don’t have a problem with you liking the ladies. You’re my friend and it’s your business. I love and accept you no matter what…” 

Hermione’s heart swelled and she gave the other woman a genuine smile. “Thanks, Gin, that means a lot. I was worried how everyone would take it.”

Ginny nodded sagely, “But you should probably tell Ron though sooner than later. He’s been working up the nerve to talk to you for some time. I know that he’ll be okay with it and he’ll back off once he knows he has no shot with you.”

“Yeah, I kinda got that impression that he was getting interested in more.” Hermione closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. She knew that there was no way she could focus on what she wanted to do and decided her best bet was to cut her losses and cave to the youngest Weasley. “Fine, you win. Let’s go skiing… Help me carry my books back to the room at least.”

Ginny squealed loudly and shot off the couch, retrieving the fallen book, looking it over. “This doesn’t look so bad, other than it being bloody gigantic. What’s it about?”

“Dunno, haven’t read it yet, since  _ someone _ interrupted me.”

“You’ll thank me later!” Ginny grinned broadly and scooped up two stacks of books, balancing each on her forearms, making a show of curling her arms like she was lifting weights. “Hey, this is great, I can do my arm workouts. Looks like your books actually have a purpose after all!”

Hermione didn’t bother answering as she shoved the remaining books into her bag and headed toward their room to get bundled up.

A couple of hours of skiing later and Hermione had to admit that she  _ was _ having fun. Though she would never tell Ginny that she had been right, she wouldn’t hear the end of it. The college rugby star had enough to gloat over and she didn’t want to inflate her ego any further. 

It was a great way for her to focus on something other than her studies or the inevitable awkward conversation with Ron. It was just her and the snow.

She zipped down the slopes with ease, adrenaline pounding in her veins. She reveled in feeling, it was like she was flying with the wind whipping her cheeks and through her hair. Otherwise all other skin was shielded by her ski bibs, poofy red jacket, goggles, scarf, and hat.

The wind had steadily picked up all afternoon and a light flurry of snow started to fall as the sun was setting. It was dark and a snowstorm well on its way when the group met at the bottom of the lift to deliberate their next move.

“One more run? Dean looked up the mountain hopefully. “We need to connect to a trail that will lead us back to the lodge anyway… These damn interconnected valleys make things so confusing.” 

“Yeah, I think we can squeeze one more in before the weather gets too bad.” Harry nodded. “They’re gonna call it a white out if this gets any worse, so we should hurry. Wouldn’t want to get stuck out here.”

“And after this we can go have a beer in the lodge and relax!” Ginny’s eyes danced behind her goggles.

“Glad you came out today, Hermione…” Ron nudged her with his elbow. 

“What can I say? Your sister is annoyingly persistent.” Hermione shrugged noncommittally, ignoring the double meaning of his harmless comment. 

The redhead in question stuck her tongue out playfully and shoved the brunette in retaliation. 

“Come along, Harry… we should get in line if we’re going to go again.” Luna hummed softly and took him by the elbow, skating on her skis toward the line for the lift.

“Shall we, Gin?” Dean held out his hand to his girlfriend and the pair followed Harry and Luna.

Hermione shuffled awkwardly as Ron looked at her hopefully.

“Whadya say, Mione? Wanna ride together?” The tall, lanky redhead extended his hand like Dean had done.

Hermione paused. She didn’t want to be rude, but she also didn’t want to lead him on. “Erm… Sure, let’s go.” She clutched her ski poles tightly in both hands and used them to propel herself over to the line without a second glance. If he showed any reaction, she didn’t see it.

Most of the lifts in the Three Valleys had been upgraded to high speed gondolas but they had ended up in a less popular part of the mountain and the chairlift they were on was one of the few remaining old school two-seaters.  _ Of course it was. _

The ride up the mountain was painfully slow, leaving plenty of room for a heavy tension to settle between them. The chair bounced and rocked as the wind buffeted the awkward pair. 

Ron seemed like he was trying to figure out what to say and kept starting to say something and then trailing off.

Hermione had a pretty good idea of what he was stumbling over and was dreading the conversation. After his fifth false start she decided that it might be easier just to rip off the Bandaid and spare them both more awkwardness. 

“Ron… I can’t help but get the feeling that things are changing between us. Do you, you know, fancy me?.”

Ron sighed with relief “ _ Finally!  _ Caught on have you? Fuck, I was trying to make it obvious… for like, months.”

She cringed and quickly interrupted him “Look, before you say anything else, I need to tell you something. I don’t think of you in any way other than platonic friendship. I don’t want to be your girlfriend.”

Ron, stubborn as always, was not going to back down. “I know you’ve got a lot going on right now, so if the timing isn't right, I’ll wait. I don’t mind. You’re worth waiting for. You’re super smart… and funny… and pretty.”

Hermione was cringing internally, her subtle approach wasn’t working. Time to be blunt. “No, it’s not the timing… I don’t… well, I’d rather have a girlfriend.”

“Yeah, I mean, that’s understandable you want more girl friends. You’ve got Gin and Luna, but like, that’s kinda it, right?” he waved his hand dismissively, not understanding what she meant.

“No, I mean… I-I’m a lesbian. I like women. Like,  _ like _ women. I don’t think of men in a sexual manner.” There it was. It was out there. No going back. Hermione held her breath as she waited for him to process.

“You… Oh…” His shoulders drooped as that sank in. “Well, bummer then. That’s just like my luck, fall for the gal who doesn’t want me.”

Hermione could almost feel the disappointment rolling off him in waves. Though she knew logically she had done nothing wrong, she couldn’t help feel slightly guilty. “Look, there are lots of nice birds out there, you’ll find one who would love to be your girlfriend.” 

“Yeah, sure, Mione.” Ron sighed dejectedly.

She just nodded softly and let him process in silence. She hated that nickname but now wasn't the time to correct him.

After several long moments of silence she spoke again, “You… Are you okay? This doesn’t change anything between us? I mean, we’re still friends, right?” 

“Of course we’re still friends ya loony. I guess I got a little surprised because it’s a bit of a shock right?” Ron reached out and put his hand on her knee, giving her a reassuring squeeze. “This changes nothing, don’t worry. I mean, I guess the only thing that changes is that I won’t try to flirt with you anymore. And hey, if you accidentally hit on any straight ladies, you’ll send them my way, right?”

“Oh, come off it, you! I haven’t even managed to snag a date for myself and you’re trying to encroach already!” Hermione laughed, feeling light and relieved by the way he had taken the news. Her laughter subsided and she took on a serious tone again. “Look, I haven’t told anyone else yet. Gin knows, because she’s a nosy bugger like that… but I’d like to tell Harry and the others.”

“Of course, not my place to tell.”

“You’re a good friend, Weasley.”

“Yeah, you too, Granger.”

The wind was howling furiously and whipping the falling snow like a thick blanket around when the group assembled at the top of the mountain. Visibility had dropped dramatically between the base of the lift and the mountain summit.

The ski patrol on duty informed them that they were closing the slopes soon and that they were to make their way back to the lodge as quickly as possible.

“Bloody hell, this is horrible! Maybe we shoulda just taken the shuttle back!” Dean complained loudly.

“Well, too late now, we’ve got no choice but ski our way out of this.” Harry held up his hand to shield his face so he could try to read the map at the top of the run. “Look, there’s a path this way and we can connect to an easy run that leads us back to the lodge.”

“Yeah, that sounds good, just don’t go to the right, otherwise you’ll end up in the Vallee Des Avals…” Dean pointed to a blacked out area, which meant expert only.

“Seriously, Valley of Avalanches? Who named these?” Hermione huffed, but her voice was carried away and no one heard her. Her internal voice quipped a response,  _ ‘The French’ Always so dramatic.’ _

“Fuck… let’s just go already! I’m losing feeling in my bollocks!” Ron shouted.

“Charming, Ronald.” The blonde woman drawled, her usually dreamy voice carried an uncharacteristic edge.

“I don’t think any of us are interested in the status of your balls, bro.” Ginny punched her sibling hard in the shoulder, causing him to fall over into a snow drift. Everyone howled with laughter as Ron struggled to get up, long arms flailing wildly. He might be a bit of an ass, but Ron was always good for comic relief to lighten the mood. 

Eventually Hermione took pity and assisted him back to his feet.

“Alright, I got the path memorized, let’s go! Make a line and we’ll take it slow, okay? Keep an eye out for one another, it might get rough.” Harry waved his hand to everyone to follow him.

One by one they fell into line and started making their way through the white out. 

Hermione was bringing up the rear of the ski caravan. She tucked her knees and shifted her weight as she navigated down the slope. It took everything she had to keep her eyes focused on the dark blip that was Ginny’s jacket.

And then in the blink of an eye it was gone, replaced by a thick blanket of white. ‘ _ Fucking shit!’  _ she cursed in her mind, her eyes desperately scanning for her friends. 

The snow was falling so hard that she could barely see her hand in front of her face. 

“Okay, breathe, Hermione. Don’t panic. You can do this.” She tried her best to talk to herself to stay calm. She knew that in situations like these it was imperative to keep a sound and level head. Which is always much easier said than done.  She was able to stay calm and collected in a testing situation but that completely fell apart outside the classroom, where she was out of her element. 

Despite being in the open, she was feeling extremely claustrophobic. The swirling snow felt like it was closing in on her, constricting her, squeezing the air from her lungs. Her breathing was becoming fast and shallow, a sign that she was heading toward a full blown panic attack. But she knew she couldn’t just stay put and freak out, she had to get back to the lodge. Freezing to death was not on her carefully planned agenda for the day. 

“One ski in front of the other. You can do this.” She continued to pep talk herself. 

Hermione carefully went along the groomed path until she came to a fork. She tried to take a few deep breaths to keep herself from losing it, but her mind was racing and her facts were becoming jumbled in her distressed state. What had Dean said? Go left? Or was it go right? No, she distinctly remembered him saying something about the right. She pushed herself forward with her poles when suddenly she felt the gentle slope drop out from under her, taking a near vertical angle.

The next thing she knew she was careening out of control down the dark mountain side on a trail far more advanced than her current skill level. She was screaming but knew that it was pointless. No one was around to hear her distressed cries for help. She tried to steady herself, wedging her skis together and trying to get herself perpendicular to the slope but it was so steep she didn’t have a choice but follow the natural curves of the mountain and pray for the best. 

What concerned her was that she had somehow veered off the ski run and entered a rock field. The boulders hidden beneath the snow could be deadly at this speed. She did her best to dodge and weave, but the lack of visibility was making this an exceptionally difficult task. She knew she was going further off course but she had no opportunity to turn around. As she went, the terrain got increasingly rugged. 

Several times she felt her skis brush against something solid but by some miracle she somehow managed to stay upright. She wasn’t so lucky when a tree suddenly appeared in front of her. She managed to avoid hitting it head on, which would have likely killed her, but her left ski got wedged on the trunk and snapped off of her boot, but not before she felt a sickening pop in her hip. 

It was impossible for her to maintain control without her second ski. That and the white hot pain flooding through her body had her teetering in the brink of consciousness. 

Hermione was cartwheeling out of control, her limbs flailing wildly as momentum carried her down the mountain. Her other ski came off at some point but she was too preoccupied to notice or care. 

Eventually the ground leveled out and she slid to a stop. Her vision swam, a mix of pain and sheer dizziness from her tumbling. She just lay there, a broken mess on the side of the mountain, unable to move as she slipped in and out of consciousness. She vaguely heard the sound of crunching snow before everything went black.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Back at the main Courchevel Lodge, five young adults sat around on couches near a stone hearth, laughing and holding fresh pints of beer. The drinks were well deserved after their harrowing journey through the freak blizzard that snuck up on them during their last run of the day. Their faces were red and wind blown, fragments of ice and snow still clinging to the tips of their hair and sliding down their brows.

“Oi… Does anyone have the feeling that we’re forgetting something?” The redhead woman mused aloud as she looked at her friends.

Everyone looked at one other and shrugged, offering a collective “I don’t think so” in response. 

“Well, I dunno about you lot, but I thought that today was brilliant and I hope the weather clears for tomorrow. Cheers to a great first day of holiday break!” A dark haired man with vibrant green eyes and spectacles grinned and raised his glass. 


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione groaned as she slowly regained consciousness. The first thing she became aware of was that she was bitterly cold. Even through her winter skiing gear she felt frozen to the core. Next she realized that she was lying on something very, very hard. It didn’t feel like snow. Maybe she had somehow ended up on a stone slab, because that’s certainly what it felt like. 

Her body shivered violently and unexpectedly in the cold, resulting in a searing, white-hot pain shooting through her entire body like branches of lightning. Every nerve ending felt like it was raw and exposed. She felt like she was on fire, a raging inferno burning her alive from the inside out. Her bones ached to the core, every muscle screamed in protest. She didn’t have the strength to open her eyes. Hell, just breathing hurt! Her stomach churned uncomfortably with waves of nausea and her head was threatening to split open. Her only defense to ease her pain was to try to stay as still as possible.  _ ‘I knew I should have stayed in the Lodge today,’  _ she thought bitterly.

She took shallow, steady breaths to try to stay as calm as possible, as having a panic attack in her current state would do her no favors. She lay still and did her best to gather any information she could about her new surroundings.

Wherever she was, it definitely was  _ not _ the Courchevel Lodge. 

Despite her pain, she dug deep to find the will to open her eyes, which by some small miracle reluctantly fluttered open. Her vision went in and out of focus as she took in her surroundings.

She was in a small stone room, so small that she could touch all four walls if she were able to move her body. The wall closest to her feet featured a large wooden door with thick iron rivets. There was a tiny window above her head where the pale moonlight streamed through, casting four thin shadows across the floor.  _ Bars on the window? _

She was in a… jail cell? What? How?

Feeling exhausted and overwhelmed, her eyes rolled back in her head as she fought the uphill battle to stay awake. She knew that if she was hypothermic, which she most definitely was, then falling asleep would be the worst thing she could possibly do. That is, if she wanted to live through the night. And right now, considering the pain she was in, she was seriously debating that as she mentally ran through her limited list of options. 

She was jolted from her thoughts by the sound of the door opening with a loud groan. She tried to look and instantly regretted it.

The backlighting washed out most of the creature’s details, but what she saw was the silhouette of what she could only describe as a monster. Based on the shadow it cast, it was huge. Easily six feet tall, maybe more. Due to her position on the floor, her eyes trailed up its body from the ground up, taking in the details with wide, disbelieving eyes. Despite everything, she was still a scientist at heart and it was in her nature to make observations, regardless of her situation.

It had two scaled feet, a greyish off-white color, with curved, four inch talons that scraped the stones as it flexed. The scales ended at the ‘knee,’ giving way to feathers. Inky, jet black feathers. The body was surprisingly humanoid, aside from the feathers, which had given way from pure black to dappled with large patches of white across the stomach and chest. She noted that there was a gentle swell at the breast, perhaps the creature was female? The muscular arms were feathered to the elbow, at which point hard scales covered the forearm and hands, similar to the feet. Unlike the ‘toes,’ the claws adorning each finger were only an inch or so. But just as razor sharp and deadly.

She could see dark wings folded neatly behind the creature’s back. They were so large that the tips of the flight feathers swept on the ground behind it. 

Piecing it all together, she quickly concluded that it looked like a mix of a human and giant eagle.

If she had the strength and wasn’t frozen in fear, she would have tried to get away. Everything about the creature screamed danger. Alas, all she could do was lie there, completely helpless and at its mercy. Was this monster, this  _ Beast, _ going to kill her? Eat her? Do something worse? What was worse than being eaten? Her breathing started to quicken, her fear dulling her pain.

Her heart nearly stopped in her chest when the creature took a step forward, entering the small cell, the talons scraping the ground like nails on a chalkboard. The movement was slow and calculated, which just added to her fear and apprehension.

She yelped, both in shock and pain, when she felt the Beast grab her by the collar of her jacket and lift her up off the ground as easily as if she were made of straw. ‘ _ And it’s extremely strong. Of course it is,’  _ she made a quick mental note. 

Now just inches away from the head, she could make out the finer details of the creature’s face that she couldn’t see from her position on the ground.

The monster had a distinctly avian look, a large yellow hooked beak drew her focus. The sharp beak opened and closed rapidly, moving only an infinitesimally small amount each time but it was enough to result in a sharp, metallic clicking noise. It reminded Hermione of a subconscious tic, like it was trying to grind its teeth, if it had any. She was fixated on the deadly beak, worried that if she looked away it would take the opportunity to tear into her, but curiosity forced her to take in the rest of its appearance.

Like the rest of the body, the head was covered in feathers, mostly black but there were quite a few white feathers sprinked in. Longer feathers flowed backwards from the ‘hairline’ and gave the illusion of flowing black locks. They looked soft and despite herself, she wanted to reach out and touch them. She knew this was a horrible idea.

But then she saw its eyes. They were intelligent, fierce, calculating, and an impossibly deep crystal blue. So blue that they didn’t seem natural. She would have noted that they were rather beautiful had they not been so hard and completely devoid of emotion. It made her shiver involuntarily. It was clear that she was dealing with an apex predator, not just physically but intellectually as well. There was really no winning in this situation.

It fixed her with its icy stare, tilting its head slightly as if it were studying her back. What happened next surprised her almost as much as the creature’s very existence. It talked. It talked in English, with a thick French accent. Just as shocking, the creature’s voice was distinctly female, alto with a rough and gravelly edge to it.

“Why have you come here? How did you find me?” The bird-woman snarled and clicked her beak menacingly. Her speech was punctuated by an occasional hiss, breaking the smooth French lilt. It gave her speech pattern a choppy feel, reminding her that she was dealing with something that wasn’t human.

“I… I…” she stammered, struggling to find words. “I was skiing. I had an accident.” Hermione finally managed to croak out, her voice rough and scratchy. Fighting through the pain, her hands instinctively reached up and clutched the clawed hand holding her to steady herself instead of just hanging there limp and useless. 

The Beast hissed and recoiled as soon as Hermione’s hands touched the rough scaly skin, dropping her on the ground with a painful thud.

Hermione grabbed her dislocated hip and screamed in agony but no sound escaped her lips. Once again she was fighting to stay conscious, her vision swimming. When the most intense waves of pain subsided, she whimpered between sobs, “Please… Have mercy… I’m badly hurt…” She closed her eyes and curled in on herself as another wave of pain shot through her broken body.

The Beast watched her with mild interest, once again tilting her head from side to side as she studied the crying woman on the ground. It seemed as if she were considering something, but what exactly was anyone’s best guess. She may have been mulling over Hermione’s pleas for help and trying to decide if she would lend aid. At the same time, she could have just as easily have been trying to decide what side dishes she wanted while she ate her for supper. Both were viable options and the crystal blue sapphires were completely unreadable as they gazed unblinking at the body before her.

“Won’t you help me? Please… I need a doctor… I’ll do anything.” Hermione begged, not caring how pitiful she sounded. The words started falling from her lips without a thought and she couldn't stop herself. If she were in her right mind, she would have instantly chastised herself for being a babbling mess.  As it was, she was experiencing the most intense pain she had ever felt and she truly feared for her life. She was desperate. To hell with dignity, logic and reason at this point. What could possibly be worse than her current situation?

“You wish to no longer be in pain?”

“Yes, very much! Please help me!” Hermione’s heart leapt when she heard the Beast’s response. Maybe her plea was being heard and she wasn’t going to die this way.

The creature stood like a statue, completely silent. Seconds, minutes, even hours may have passed for all she knew. Finally the woman spoke, bending down to her eye level, the deadly beak hovering just inches from her face.

“Very well. I give you a choice. I can return you to where I found you and you can die on the mountainside as the fates intended.”

Hermione’s heart sank when she heard that.  _ Great, option one. Death. _ Not really good odds so far.

“Or… You stay here and you will be restored to health. The choice is yours.”

“Yes. Please help me.” The words were out of Hermione’s mouth before she could stop herself, too eager to grasp at any sort of salvation to her current situation. In her completely addled state, she was quite incapable of logical thought. Had she been, she would have probably asked about a dozen questions before giving such a hasty reply. 

“Both will give you freedom from your pain. I want to hear your choice. Say it.” The beast commanded, returning to her full height. 

“I will stay… Now please… Help me.” Hermione sobbed, her voice cracking with desperation.

The bird’s eyes flashed menacingly. While she was incapable of smiling, her blue eyes said it all. It was rather unsettling and certainly didn’t bode well.

Hermione gulped. She felt an icy dread course through her as she saw the glint in those blue eyes. She instantly realized her mistake. She had made the deal and hadn’t asked about what was expected of her in return. She swallowed down her nerves, “And… the payment?”

“You said ‘anything.’ I have accepted your offer. We shall discuss the repayment of your debt once you are well again. You are of no use to me like this.” The woman hissed and grabbed her again by the scruff of her coat and started dragging her out of the cell. 

Hermione’s stomach churned violently and she fought to not be sick then and there. That did  _ not _ sound good at all.  _ Well, shit. _ Aside from mentally kicking herself, she was helpless to do anything other than be dragged along, flopping like a sack of potatoes. She didn't even have the strength to fight back or struggle. 

They came to a flight of stairs after a few paces. By the third stair she passed out from the pain of her hip hitting the hard stone steps.

Hermione jolted awake from an unpleasant dream of flying and being dropped from a great height; echoes of her screams rang in her ears, causing her stomach to flip and her eyes to shoot open. At first her heart leapt when she realized she was warm and in a bed. At least she was not partially frozen on the mountain or in a dungeon anymore. 

She also was pleased to note that she wasn’t in as much pain. Now her body just throbbed with dull aches rather than the excruciating, shooting pains from earlier. Her hip specifically felt much better, a little stiff but it didn’t feel dislocated any longer. She still didn’t feel capable of movement, her limbs felt heavy. They felt as if they were made of cement and she didn’t have the strength to move them. All things considered it was a vast improvement from the last time she was conscious. At least the Beast was making good on her end of the bargain and was healing her. 

_ The Beast. The bargain. Oh fuck.  _

Her body immediately tensed and her stomach sank as the memories came rushing back and hit her like a truck. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t believe she had said that.  _ Anything?!?  _ Her thoughts started running rampant, warring with herself.  How could she have possibly been that stupid? She was delirious and barely conscious when she made the deal, she reasoned. Surely she couldn’t be held accountable or expected to make good on her end. Maybe the Beast would understand and reconsider?  _ No, who was she trying to fool? _ She remembered seeing that glint in the creature’s eye when she agreed to the terms, however loose and vague. She groaned at her predicament.

She took a few deep breaths and tried to collect her thoughts and keep herself from spiraling. Well, what’s done was done and she would have to deal with the consequences later. There was no point in dwelling over the unknowns or fretting over what she couldn’t control. She did what little she could to make the best of her situation: she set to gather as much information as she could. If she had information, perhaps she could plan an escape before encountering the beast again. Her eyes slowly moved around the new surroundings. 

The room was like nothing she had ever seen before. It was long and narrow, barely 15 feet across. The walls were made of stone bricks, thick exposed wooden beams ran across the flat ceiling. 

The walls were completely bare save for the light figures at even intervals, each gave off weak, flickering light. She squinted at the closest one.  _ Was that a wax candle? _

Two rows of beds, six on either side, were arranged so that the simple headboards abutted the wall, forming a narrow walking path between them that bisected the length of the room. All the beds had been made up and were undisturbed, each adorned with a single pillow. A small wooden footlocker was placed at the end of each bed. There was a nightstand separating the beds, empty except for a wax candle burning in a simple candlestick. Except the nightstand by her bed. This one had a tray with a metal cup, water pitcher, some towels and an empty wash basin sitting upon it.

There was a large stone hearth on the end of the room opposite from where she was sitting, filling the room with warmth. A wooden door stood to the side of the fireplace.

Aside from just the appearance and furniture, everything about the room felt strange and foreign. It felt like she had stepped back 200 years in time.

The air was pure and raw. Fresh. She detected the sharp scent of smoke and pine from the hearth. Otherwise the air was untainted by the subtle artificial scents and perfumes used by businesses to subtly “brand their experience.” She cringed internally at the memory of accidentally walking too close to an Abercrombie the last time when she went shopping at the mall. It took her a week to stop subconsciously smelling that distinct odor of preppy teen apparel. 

And it was completely quiet, aside from the crackling of the fireplace and the howling winds outside. She couldn’t remember the last time she had experienced something like this. Even in the dead of night, there were always sounds in the city. The steady hum of electric power lines, cars honking or whooshing by, people talking. Not here. It felt empty. Lonely. 

She turned her attention to herself. She was laying on one of the identical beds, positioned in the center of the room. There were a couple of thick wool blankets draped carefully over her lap. She was startled and mortified to realize that she was not in her ski wear and had been stripped down completely. She could feel something wrapped about her most private area so she knew that she wasn’t completely nude. That was a small comfort at least. But at least for her sake she was covered by the sheets and blankets. Her arms were resting on top of the blankets. Her left forearm and right shoulder appeared to be splints and soft casts. What little she could see of her pale skin was marred by ugly dark bruises. In fact, it was more accurate to say she was more a mix of black, blue, and purple than her normal skin tone.

Feeling rather faint and tired, she closed her eyes and succumbed once more to the darkness. 

Hermione’s eyes fluttered open groggily, roused from her sleep by the sounds of several distinct voices, speaking in hushed whispers. The voices were abnormally high pitched, squeaky even, almost inhuman sounding. She couldn’t distinguish if they were male or female voices. They were speaking a language she didn’t understand or recognize. 

“Hello?” She managed to croak out. Her throat felt drier than the Sahara. The moving air scratched and burned like grating sandpaper. Her head felt worse than before, swimming in a fever induced delirium. She shifted in her bed, trying to move so she could see who was in the room. It was the first time she was aware she wasn’t alone. 

“Miss is awake! Stay still, you are still very hurt. Mistress said Dobby must tend you.” A voice spoke, suddenly very close. A cool rough hand pressed against her forehead. Normally she hated being touched, especially by a stranger but the touch was oddly soothing and she melted into her mattress, her eyes slipping shut. 

“Miss has a fever. Miss must try to rest as much as possible.” There was some more muttering in the foreign language and what sounded like scuffling of bare feet moving away. The footsteps returned moments later and a cool damp cloth was being pressed to her head. The water smelled like it had been infused with pine and herbs.

“Miss is fortunate. The Mistress found you on the grounds and brought you here, otherwise Miss would have surely perished. We will make you better again.”

Hermione swallowed thickly, her throat still burning.

“Open your mouth. Small sips.” A spoon was pressed against her lips. Having no other choice, she complied. If these people meant her harm, they would have had plenty of opportunities by now. A warm rich broth trickled down her throat. It felt wonderful and she stuck her chin forward, silently asking for more.

“Slowly now, Miss. Dobby will watch over Miss.”

"Thank you..." Hermione managed a few more sips before she felt herself feeling sleepy again.

Hermione fell into an easy routine with ‘Dobby the house elf.’ She had been more than a little shocked to see his appearance for the first time. At first she didn’t believe her eyes, but then again, she was indebted to a giant bird woman so at this point she was feeling particularly open-minded.

Dobby had bulging pale-green eyes and large bat-like ears. He had a long, thin nose, a pointy chin and a few sparse whiskery hairs that stuck up on the top of his otherwise bald head. He was also remarkably tiny, barely able to see over the side of the bed. It looked like he had fashioned himself a sort of smock out of a pillowcase; a tiny belt made of a bit of rope cinched at the waist had a few bags and baubles hanging from it. 

She wondered if she had somehow gone through a portal and landed in a fairy tale. How else could she explain talking monsters and tiny house elves? Her highly logical brain was running in circles trying to puzzle that out. At least it gave her something to do during the day.

Most of the time she was left alone to rest and recover. Dobby had other chores to do and dropped in throughout the day to bring her food. If she was asleep he would leave her meal on the bedside table. Always broth. It was simple, good and warmed her. She could feel her strength slowly recovering as her body stitched itself back together. 

In the evenings he would help her bathe and change what was essentially an adult diaper. While he was always professional about it, it was still highly embarrassing to her. She had always prided herself on her independence, so being reduced to this state of dependency was quite a blow to her. But she had few options and even fewer allies so she sucked it up and didn’t complain.

She looked forward to their little meetings. It broke up the monotony of the day and she would ask him as many questions as she could manage in these limited windows of opportunity. She asked questions mostly about his life here and the Mistress, which is what he called the Beast. She couldn’t bring herself to call her that, it sounded like some BDSM scene. As a compromise she referred to the Beast as  _ her _ , not wanting to offend him or make him uncomfortable by calling his mistress ‘Beast’ to his face _. _ Most of the time her questions were left unanswered. Dobby’s already large eyes somehow got even wider and he would curl in on himself with fright. Sometimes he would literally run away. 

But in time she learned some things. She knew that there were other house elves, too, but he had been assigned to her specifically. The rest kept to themselves. They had seen her while she was unconscious and that sated their curiosity. Sometimes she could hear their little voices and slapping of bare feet on the stones from the hallway.

She knew that he had been there for a long time but time passed differently here. She still hadn’t been able to figure out where ‘here’ was. There was apparently some sort of magical force field that kept the elves from leaving the grounds. Again she groaned at the ridiculousness of that. Magic didn’t exist. But at the same time it was the only way to explain everything going on around her. She would have to start her own research once she was no longer bedridden; provided she ever got the opportunity. At least at this point she wasn’t afraid of becoming dinner or meeting an untimely end. Why would they bother healing her if they were just going to kill her later?

Aside from her visits from Dobby, she was left alone and dear god she was bored. Apparently whatever room she was in was separate from where the elves bunked. Not that she wanted to be surrounded by strangers but company would be nice. The eerie silence was something she struggled to get used to. She did her best to sleep and rest to pass the time. The quicker she recovered the better so she could figure out her next steps. 

She was beyond grateful that she hadn’t seen the Beast again. The winged woman hadn’t bothered to check on her, which she didn’t mind. In fact, if she could somehow avoid her for the rest of her time here, that would be ideal. She knew she wasn’t that lucky.

When she wasn’t asleep or pondering the existence of magic, she spent her time wondering what her friends were up to. She would entertain herself by making fun little scenarios about them. Ginny winning the rugby tourney. Ron finding himself a nice girl. Luna airily daydreaming as she decorated a new flat for herself and Harry. 

It had been a punch to the gut when Dobby told her that all memories of her were erased from the outside world as soon as she had crossed the boundary of the castle grounds. Yes, she was in a castle - that had been a shock to find out, in the servants’ quarters, though. 

Just another point for her fairy tale theory. Maybe it would be like the other stories and there would be a happy ending waiting for her at the end of the tunnel. But she doubted it.


End file.
